Drunk
by cheeseandoreosHP
Summary: Hermione Granger doesn't really see the appeal of complete intoxication, if she's honest with herself, and she's more than happy to share her views with the world... Just a little oneshot about a Post-War DA reunion.


**Author's note: I have absolutely no idea what on earth possessed me to write this... It just sort of seemed to type itself. I'm sort of interested in the whole Hermione and Lavender dynamic, and how it would work out after the war. I know there is some dispute about whether or not she survives, but for the sake of this oneshot, I guess we just have to assume that she did... I really hope it's okay! **

**I don't own Harry Potter. _Obviously._ (You said that in a Snape accent, didn't you? Tehe.) **

Hermione wasn't really a plan of this whole _drinking _business.

She just couldn't see the logic in it. Yes, firewhiskey tasted nice, and yes, sometimes you just wanted to forget all the horrible stuff that had happened to and yes, the buzz from alcohol was nice, and yes, it was quite _easy _to get carried away at parties like this one... But to get so utterly intoxicated that you would sing opera, or throw up, or snog a boy that was not your boyfriend? That seemed utterly _idiotic. _The kind of thing that wrecked a reputation, really.

Not to mention the fact, she thought, as she frowned at a page of her book, that you'd lose entire _hours _from your life. Hours you would _never _be able to regain back. You only had to throw a quick glance at most of her classmates to know that they wouldn't be able to remember this when they woke up in the morning... And to be honest, you only had to throw one glance at Seamus and Parvati in the corner to know that most of them wouldn't want to.

Hermione, for one, hadn't spent all this time fighting, all this time worrying and dreading and scheming and starving and fighting... Hadn't spent all this time in uncertainty and dread, to just waste away the precious seconds she didn't have to worry just getting _drunk. _

People made all these awful choices when they were drunk. Rushed things, got carried away with things, got pushed into things... Lost all control, became so incredibly _vulnerable. _And even though they were among friends, even though everyone here would look out for each other... Hermione was the smartest witch of her age. And it seemed to her as she watched them all that getting drunk wasn't an incredibly smart thing to do.

Not even in the slightest.

Drinking wasn't worth all the hype... Being the only fully sober person at a party was enough to prove that much. A couple of glasses was one thing... Hermione felt pleasantly warm and faintly intoxicated, whilst keeping a completely clear head, and easily assuring herself that she wouldn't throw up in the morning... But to get as carried away as Harry, who was standing on the table, shouting incoherently about the time he fought Voldemort in a pink wig... Or Ron, who was singing loudly about some witch called Penelope (Hermione was going to have to talk to him about that later)

Honestly... It was ridiculous.

And really, this 'DA reunion'... It was only three weeks since they'd left Hogwarts, and a large majority of them would be back to complete their 6th and 7th years in just a few short weeks... It seemed so pointless.

"Her-my-oww-nee!" Hermione started at thee drawn out sound of her name, and turned to find Ginny, her arm slung around the shoulder of Lavender Brown as she giggled. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Hermione frowned at her friend. "Ginny, you arrived _with _me."

Ginny frowned, as if trying to remember. "I did?"

Lavender giggled. "She did?"

"Yes." Said Hermione firmly. "She did. Ginny, are you alright? You look a little... Flushed."

Ginny shook her head, laughing. "I'm not going to lie, darling, I am a tad drunk." Her words slurred ever so slightly, and she giggled again, as if the concept were ridiculous.

"Indeed." Hermione replied dryly, torn between disapproval of the fact that her friend had gotten herself into this state, and amusement at the fact that she was calling her 'darling'. "I never would have guessed."

Ginny giggled again.

"Well-" She raised the glass of _something _she was holding, though what, Hermione couldn't tell. "This has been fun. But I'm off to find-" She frowned as if she was trying to remember the name. "Who was I going to find?" She asked Lavender, leaning heavily into the curly haired witch as she sloshed half of the glass down her front.

Lavender just giggled, and Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes. "A glass of water, perhaps? And a bed?"

"That's right!" Ginny exclaimed, laughing. "I was going to find Harry. You're so clever, Hermione! How did you get to be so clever?"

Hermione frowned pointedly at the glass in Ginny's hand, and decided not to answer that one. Lavender giggled again.

"Well- you two have fun!" Ginny laughed. "But not too much." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Ronald might get jealous."

"Imagine that." Hermione muttered to herself under her breath, fighting the urge to throw up just a little in her mouth at the implications of what Drunk-Ginny was saying.

"Ronald." Lavender giggled.

Which didn't really help matters.

And suddenly, she was left alone with a drunk Lavender Brown. Which was really, really not how she'd envisioned this evening turning out when she'd agreed to come with Harry, Ron and Ginny.

_For old times sakes, _they'd told her. _You don't have to stay for long, _

Was that _Luna _dancing on the table? Perhaps she was just batting away a wrackspurt or something...

Hermione sighed. Who was she kidding? She really was the only sober person there. The _only _hero of this generation not currently chucking up, singing at the top of her voice or sticking her tongue down someone's throat... If only the press could see them all now. They'd have a field day.

If these were the saviours of the wizarding world, Hermione thought dryly, as a particularly intoxicated Dean Thomas crawled past on his hands and knees, presumably doing a cat impression, then Hermione despaired for wizardkind.

She turned her attention to Lavender, who appeared to be saying something. "Sorry?" She asked, trying to block out the music and the blinking lights of the rented room.

Lavender giggled, sitting (or rather, dropping into) the seat next to her. "I said, you're so pretty, Hermione."

"Oh." Hermione said, frowning.

"I love your hair." Lavender whispered, her voice reverent as her fingers combed through one of the particularly abundant curls springing free from Hermione's careless up do. "It's so... so..."

Evidently, the word Lavender was searching for was beyond her grasp, for she trailed off, her eyes fixated on Hermione's as she giggled.

Merlin, Hermione thought... Maybe I _should _have accepted that extra glass of firewhiskey... This was a rather uncomfortable situation.

"I've always admired you, you know." Lavender whispered, her eyes growing wide as her voice took on the tone of a confession. "You're really clever and pretty and _smart._"

Hermione frowned. "Okay?"

"And I know we've had our differences, but... I was really rather hoping that we could be friends." Hermione suppressed a snort.

Drunk Lavender was about as much of a cow as sober Lavender.

Then again... Maybe it wasn't that ridiculous, Hermione reasoned, as she frowned at her now giggling roommate. Lavender had been a completely awful to her, a lot of the time. She'd taken the mickey of Hermione's hair and teeth and bookish nature behind her back. She'd argued with her about Harry telling the truth. She'd spread terrible, unjust rumours about nearly every single one of Hermione's relationships, even when there wasn't all that much of an actual relationship there. She'd flaunted Hermione's inaptitude at Divination, as if it was some sort of sick victory, one up on the girl who had always succeeded in everything. She'd laughed unkindly whenever someone had taken part in the anti-Hermione clan. She'd been horrible to Hermione for months after she'd resumed her friendship with Ron, and a lot before that, even though there was a war on and there were so much more _concrete _things to worry about...

She'd stolen Ron.

But then again, maybe some of those things weren't her fault, said the more rational part of Hermione's consciousness. Lavender was just... Lavender. And a lot of the time, even though she was horrible, she didn't do it intentionally.

She was everything Hermione hated in a girl, everything that she found herself incapable of relating to... She was vain, and vapid, and gossipy. She could be mean, and she was completely ridiculous- practically insensible, when it came to boys. But that was just her. Not everyone could be a logical, rational human being. Not everyone could be a human rights activist, or a political campaigner, or a loyal feminist.

Sometimes, the world needed trivial gossipers and brainless airheads and stereotypical blonds, just to keep the balance.

And the thing was... Hermione had shared a dorm with Lavender for going on 7 years. No one knew more about each other than those girls who'd been forced into shared quarters, practically against their will, for so long. And... There was a reason Lavender was a Gryffindor. A reason she was part of the DA. A reason she would be getting an order of Merlin, first class, for services to wizardkind, along with the rest of the DA who'd fought in the battle of Hogwarts, on the first of next month...

And Hermione had saved her life. Not that like or dislike had anything to do with that... They'd saved Malfoy, after all, simply because he was conflicted, and partly innocent, and because it was the right thing to do. But there was a little affection for Lavender. Hermione _had _blasted the werewolf (she couldn't think his name, would _not _think his name.) off the unconscious body of her dorm mate.

All that had to count for something... Right?

And at the end of the day, this had just been one of those trivial little battles that most girls experience as they move through adolescence. It had been a competition, this ridiculous bitterness. It had been about _Ron. _

And Hermione had won. _Hermione _was the one who could go and snog the (completely drunk, it might be added) idiot singing in the corner, should she so desire. _Hermione _was the one who got to exchange the soul burdening dialogue, at which Ron was so inept, and the one who got to feel his hands all over her, in the late hours of the night. _Hermione _was the one who'd wake up the next morning in his house, having secretly crept into his bedroom to sleep next to him, not doing anything, just feeling him there. _Hermione _was the one who'd wake up from dreadful nightmares, to find a completely different Ron, comforting her, easing her back into a dreamless sleep.

_Hermione, _and not Lavender, was the one who got to call him hers.

And somehow, that made everything alright. "I think we already are, Lavender." She told her frankly, smiling.

"Oh! Good!" Lavender exclaimed, and she sounded like she meant it. She leaned forwards. "I'd like to tell you a secret."

Hermione's amusement vanished. That didn't sound good... Not good at all.

"Oh?"

"I didn't _like _Ron." She told her. "Not at first. I only went out with him because I was _jealous._"

"Jealous?" Hermione asked, her heart sinking, though she couldn't quite account for why. "What? Of me?"

"Yes!" Lavender giggled. "Isn't that silly?"

Hermione felt like she should be insulted, but instead, she felt merely amused. "Yes, I suppose it is."

"Mmm. And then he was just... He was a _bad _boyfriend. Don't you think?"

Hermione glanced over to where Ron sang tunelessly, now using an empty can of beer as a microphone. He could be insensitive, she supposed, with a slight smile. And rude, and malicious, and...

God, but she loved him.

"Yes. He sucks as a boyfriend. And you know what? I don't care."

Hermione wondered why she was saying this. It wasn't like... it wasn't like she really wanted Lavender to know _anything _about her relationship with Ron. She might be comfortable, she might be secure, she might not be inclined to be jealous in the least... But that didn't mean she wanted Lavender to know all the intimate secrets of the relationship Hermione held with Lavender's ex boyfriend.

Drunk people were such an easy confidence, though.

Lavender giggled again. "You know, all I ever did was _snog _him. And I thought I had a _serious relationship. _I thought he cared about me... I thought I'd stolen him from you. And I felt so pleased with myself, so victorious... And all along, I hadn't won anything."

Her eyes filled with tears, and Hermione felt seriously alarmed. Merlin, what was happening? She grabbed a glass of something that smelled suspiciously like vodka from a passing waiter and thrust it into her companions hand. Lavender gulped it down all in one.

"It's not like I care." She said frankly. "Not anymore. But... it felt kind of good. Knowing that I stole him from you. Knowing that I had that kind of power. It was all in my head, but... It felt good. And I'm sorry."

Hermione shrugged, smiling a little to herself. She could forgive Lavender, then. It all seemed so trivial now, so meaningless... Those kinds of stupid teenaged dramas seemed like years ago, lifetimes ago. So much had happened since then... So much more important stuff. It really put everything into perspective.

Yes, it was easy to forgive Lavender Brown now. Especially a drunk Lavender Brown, albeit a slightly pathetic Lavender Brown... A Lavender Brown who she could recognise as a friend, rather than an enemy.

A Lavender Brown who _wasn't _trying to steal her boyfriend.

"You're forgiven."

"I never saw what he liked about me." She said. Hermione stared at her.

Oh, Merlin, she was going to have to do that thing that 'girlfriends' always seemed to do. That, he's-not-worth-it-you're-amazing-boosting-self-esteem thing.

She sucked at it. And Lavender Brown was the last person on earth she wanted to try it with... But she tried anyway.

It had been she, after all, and not Lavender, who'd broken up this particular relationship. Because, much as she might try to deny it, much as she might try to tell herself that Lavender had done something awful... When Lavender had 'stolen' Ron, there hadn't been all that much to steal.

Hermione was rational, and logical, and _sobre. _She was dating Ron. She was secure. Her vision wasn't clouded by friendzone does-he-doesn't-he, or grudges, or dislike, or complicated hormone-ish stuff. She could see that now.

She wasn't 16. It was time to move on.

"Lavender, you're... pretty." Come on, Granger. You can do better than that. "You're sort of funny... And you're tall, and you have nice hair, and you... You have all the stuff that boys go for. Talented, and a war hero, and good nails."

Lavender giggled, holding out her own perfectly long, perfectly painted red nails, and Hermione hid her bitten cuticles under the table.

"What I mean to say is... You're feminine, and giggly, and you read witch weekly like the bible. And sometimes, that's okay. We're polar opposites, you and I. But that doesn't mean you're any less... valuable. To the wizarding world. You're going to be an amazing nanny. You're capable of turning guy's heads as you walk down the street. You're the kind of girl that I couldn't be, and wouldn't want to be, but it works for you. And you might be jealous of me, sometimes, like you said. For being bookishly smart, and for having Ron. But you don't need Ron. And neither do I. We're... We're important on our own. We're _powerful _on our own. And you need to give yourself credit for that."

Lavender stared at her, wide eyed, and Hermione looked away, ever so slightly embarrassed, but proud of herself nevertheless. "I think you should go home." She told Lavender.

"Why?" Lavender demanded. "We're having so much fun!"

Hermione almost smiled. "You're utterly sloshed." She informed her cohort. "And I think you need to go back home before I say something I'm going to regret. Which, whilst we're on that subject... If by some chance you remember this discussion in the morning, I am going to completely and utterly deny everything. Understood?"

Lavender nodded and giggled one more time, and Hermione sighed, realising she'd have to take her home. Over in the corner, Harry appeared to be talking gibberish to himself, Ginny was unconscious (drooling on his shoulder), and Ron was _still_ singing.

It was the worst singing she'd ever heard. It was abominable. It was atrocious.

It would reduce Celestina Walbeck to a sobbing wreck, could she hear him now.

Hermione found herself shaking with irrepressible laughter.

Maybe having drunk friends wasn't so bad. Maybe she'd misunderstood the point, or at least, understood it a whole lot less than her friends had.

Because when was the last time they'd had anything to laugh about?

"Stupefy!" She said, and Ron crumpled as the entire pub broke into tumulus applause, free at last from the 700th rendition of 'A Cauldron of Hot, Strong Love.'

Harry pouted. "I really want to hex you right now, Hermy. That was- that was-"

She raised an eyebrow. "Was what?"

"Was-" Harry broke into raucous giggles, and Ginny let out a snore on his shoulder as she was jolted off him, onto the floor. Hermione couldn't help but burst out laughing with him.

It wasn't every day that you saw the saviour of the wizarding world giggling like a fourth year Hufflepuff who'd just been told she had a date with Gilderoy Lockhart, pre memory wipe...

"I am never, ever going to let you forget this." She informed Harry, helping him up, whilst making sure Lavender didn't topple to the ground. "Alright. Let's get you lot home."

Maybe drinking wasn't such a bad thing at all... So long as you weren't the one doing it.

"Lightweights." She told them, grinning to herself.


End file.
